


note the trees, because the dirt is temporary

by plaguehaver



Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: Disaster gay, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Light Angst, M/M, Peter's side of things, Set somewhere after Final Resting Place, That post about how Juno's career is doing good so Peter's probably doing proportionately poorly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-29
Updated: 2018-12-29
Packaged: 2019-09-29 16:37:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17207030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plaguehaver/pseuds/plaguehaver
Summary: "Peter Nureyev sat in a bar on Ganymede, trashed out of his mind. It wasn’t even one of the nice bars- those had stopped letting him in a good while ago.Getting drunker by the second,he thought,I probably look like Juno."





	note the trees, because the dirt is temporary

**Author's Note:**

> felt cute, might delete later

Peter Nureyev sat in a bar on Ganymede, trashed out of his mind. It wasn’t even one of the nice bars- those had stopped letting him in a good while ago. He had a glass in his hand, a glass of something, something that wasn’t even cold. The bar wasn’t exactly empty, and Peter could feel the stares of pity and disgust that the other patrons were directing at him. _Getting drunker by the second,_ he thought, _I probably look like Juno_.

The thought brought tears back to his eyes. _Juno._ His Juno. It had been a while now since that fateful night in Hyperion City, and Peter told himself that he was over it. He was getting over it. He’d be over it eventually. He just had to go through all five stages of the grieving process. Denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and excessive drinking. Peter thought he was doing better, he had even pulled off his first successful heist since leaving Mars! Of course, it went off without a hitch. Who needs some horribly beautiful private eye named _Juno Steel_? Peter was perfectly fine on his own.

At least, that’s what he had thought, until he saw someone walking through the streets of Io wearing the exact same coat that Juno always used to. Peter had nearly been hit by a car attempting to cross the street. Whoever the person was, they certainly weren’t Juno and they certainly didn’t appreciate having their coat grabbed by some stranger. Peter nursing a black eye as he caught the first flight off the moon.

Ganymede was intended to be the place of his next Big Job. The moon was teeming with opportunity, the walls bleeding with people of unsavory character. Large enough to have things to steal, populated enough for Peter to stay safely under the radar. And a vigilante justice system, how exciting! Unfortunately for him, as soon as he stepped off of the plane, the whole place seemed to be steeped in little reminders of the lady he lost.

Juno’s hair. Juno’s eyepatch. Juno’s smell, the taste of his skin, the way the dust seemed to cling to him wherever he went. The image of him was plastered to the back of Peter’s eyelids, brief flashes of him in the daylight, and an aching memory in Ganymede’s long, long nights. The amount of sleep he began to lose was egregious. He wore down the carpet of every hotel room he stayed in with his near-constant pacing. Back and forth, back and forth. He’d watch the neon red numbers on his clock count up and up until the sun rose, and then it was back to taking any little job he could find just to occupy himself.

There was one night where he came close, too close. His computer was right there, and Peter had the skills, he knew he did, but he had always been afraid of what he’d find should he use them. Peter searched, and it wasn’t even hard to find- The Juno Steel Detective Agency. A beautifully-crafted home page with his secretary’s phone number and the office’s address right there. Peter counted his credits and then counted them again. He had enough. Enough to get him a one-way flight to Mars and a taxi through Hyperion City. The spaceport’s website was _right there_. The next flight left at four a.m. and it was only two. His fingers hovered precariously over the “Confirm Purchase” button for an excruciating moment. But he never made contact. He sobbed into his hand and then went downstairs to the hotel bar and blew all his creds on fancy alcohol.

A quick day of picking pockets on the streets of Ganymede and he was back in the next gaudy hotel, drinking his woes away until the sun rose again, a tiny star in the distance. Rinse and repeat, so went the next week and then the month after that. Peter sat in that bar on Ganymede, blinking angry tears out of his eyes and trying not to smudge his eyeliner. He’d been reduced to a low-level thief, picking pockets just to get by. Where was the honor, the thrill, the _passion_? He was a wreck, debauched and even more over dramatic than usual, which is saying something. But he swore up and down, he swore to every person in the bar that night, that he didn’t need Juno Steel.

He didn’t _need_ Juno Steel.

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from [Staring at the Sun by TV On the Radio](https://youtu.be/qHX-FKTV8Rk)
> 
> I plan on writing more Jupeter stuff in the future (hopefully with a higher quality) so find me on tumblr [@plaguehaver](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/plague-haver) or on my personal blog [@thedominoswizard](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/thedominoswizard)


End file.
